


two bottles of whiskey for the way

by michaelsc0fields



Series: Captain Canary A-Z Challenge [5]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, w is for whiskey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:17:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6990769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelsc0fields/pseuds/michaelsc0fields
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara pulls out another glass. “That crap in the saloon was cut with burnt sugar.” She pushes the tumbler towards him. “I always save the best for you.”</p><p>He eyes her. “We still talking about alcohol?”</p><p>W is for Whiskey</p>
            </blockquote>





	two bottles of whiskey for the way

They’ve been on this mission for less than a week and it’s already gone to shit.

“I need a drink.” Sara mutters, just loud enough for him to hear and he takes it as an invitation.

They raid Rip’s stash of vintage spirits ad she grins triumphantly when she pulls out a bottle of whiskey.

She sets two crystal cut tumblers on the counter and sloshes them half full of amber liquid. She raises hers to him and pauses.

“To…” Her voice falters before she can say ‘Carter’ so she prompts him to toast instead.

Not one for sentimentality, Leonard rolls his eyes. “To the poor bastards who made this whiskey, not knowing it would waste away on this tin can.”

“Not anymore.” She clinks her glass against his.

-

They don’t return the whiskey to Rip’s quarters. Sara tucks it into a corner of her room, telling Leonard she doesn’t trust him not to drink it without her. He’d be offended if he didn’t actually agree with her.

-

“I don’t do ‘thank yous’,” he drawls when she approaches him after Russia.

“I know.” She says and leaves the glass of whiskey by his elbow. “That’s why I’m not saying one.”

-

There’s a knock on her door the night after they leave Star City 2046. It slides open to reveal Leonard and a pack of cards.

“You okay?” He asks, a little reluctantly, after she loses two games of gin without him even having to cheat. He doesn’t care, it’s just not as satisfying if she isn’t trying.

“A little weirded out.” Sara admits.

He bristles at the desire to comfort her. “Want a drink?” He suggests instead.

They swig it out the bottle and she gets her ass in gear; he is sent away at the end of the night having lost six games out of ten. The ace up his sleeve stays hidden the whole time.

-

Sara sets the bottle down in front of him, a single glass beside it. He stares at it listlessly; Mick loved whiskey. Present tense – the man is still alive. Out there. Somewhere.

He is lost in his thoughts, but he notices her going to leave.

“Wait.” He is surprised at the sound of his own voice. “Drink with me?”

She doesn’t say a word, just slides into the chair opposite him and pours a glass almost to the rim. She takes a sip, then pushes it over to him. He swallows a large amount in one go, then passes it back.

They trade it to and fro in silence till it is empty, then fill it up again.

-

“How were the 50s?” He drawls, flexing his new hand as he drops into the chair next to hers.

“Crappy.” She rolls her head to look at him with a scowl. “The whiskey wasn’t vintage. It was modern. And the League doesn’t allow strong spirits. They ‘cloud the mind’.”

He snorts. “Perish the thought.” His gaze bore into her. “Need a reminder of the good stuff?”

Her eyes narrow flirtatiously. “We still talking about alcohol?”

He laughs aloud at that and when he pours, he makes sure to give her a little extra.

-

“Nice face.” Sara purses her lips in amusement. She already has two tumblers set up on the kitchen counter as she smirks at his newly blackened cheekbone.

Leonard glares at her, then flicks his eyes to the whiskey bottle. He wordlessly reaches over her to take another glass from the cabinet, setting it down beside the two she had prepared. She doesn’t say anything as she fills that one too.

“Mick joining us?” She says after a moment.

“Maybe.” He replies and they leave it at that.

-

“I would have thought you’d have had enough drink for one day.” Leonard hovers in her doorway. “Mick certainly has.”

Sara looks up from the glass of whiskey she has been nursing as she thinks over her words to Kendra. Destiny, fate… when did she start believing in rubbish like that?

She quirks an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

“That after all our sharing, you didn’t think to get me a shot of whiskey?” He worms out of the real question she was asking. “Definitely.”

Sara pulls out another glass. “That crap in the saloon was cut with burnt sugar.” She pushes the tumbler towards him. “I always save the best for you.”

He eyes her. “We still talking about alcohol?”

She smiles as she brushes past him.

-

“It feels weird letting you have a drink when I’ve been giving you milk for the last few hours.” She grins, opening the bottle but not pouring it.

“Don’t start.” He growls. “All I have heard from Kendra is-“

“Your cheeks were so chubby!” Sara squeals and he huffs, pulling the bottle out of her hands and fixing himself a much deserved drink.

-

There isn’t much time for drinking after they decide to confront Savage directly.

They both grab a swig from the bottle while everyone else has gone to suit up.

“Might be the last time we taste this…” Sara sighs as she passes the bottle over.

“Speak for yourself,” Leonard snorts. “I plan on finishing this bottle, with or without you, assassin.” He levels her with a long look. “Preferably with you.”

“I didn’t peg you for the sentimental type, Snart.” She says softly.

“I’m not.” He says shortly, capping the bottle and putting it back onto its shelf. “Just try not to die, okay?”

-

They are pressed against each other in silence, although her breathing sounds like the loudest thing on the planet as she exhales right beside his ear. He wards off a shudder at the sensation as boots clatter over their heads.

“You brought the cards but not the whiskey.” She breathes and he buries his face in her neck to muffle his laugh.

-

“Get him out of here.”

“No.”

“Just do it.”

She launches herself at him.

Her breath is intoxicating like whiskey. Her hair is like gold. Her hand is freezing where is grips his arm.

She is everything he loves in this life; alcohol, shiny things and the bitter cold.

Leonard Snart is sober, but he is drunk on Sara Lance.

-

The final drops trickle out of the bottle.

Sara raises the tumbler to the light, the amber liquid glinting, a sight so interlinked with the memory of Leonard that it brings tears to her eyes unbidden.

This whiskey has been many things; a toast to life, to death, to strange moments shared, a comfort and a condolence. But throughout all of them, it has been enjoyed by Leonard. Drinking it without him seems wrong, regardless of what he himself had claimed.

She tips the whiskey down the drain and heads to find Rip’s stash again. Maybe it’s time to switch to vodka.


End file.
